Page 53 of Sins of His Wrath

Naya opened her mouth to ask what had happened—but shut it just as quickly. It wasn’t her concern. He was a ruler, and just like last time, he had other responsibilities. In fact, he’d said he needed to get back to his land quickly for his people, yet he hadn’t left the bedroom in at least two weeks. Relaxing, she settled against him, and enjoyed the feel of his body cradling hers.

For three days, the knocks came more frequently.

Each time, Akoro rose, spoke quietly, dismissed the messenger, and returned to bury himself inside her, drag his tongue through her folds, or pull her against his chest and simply hold her.

The fourth morning, sunlight cut through the latticed windows and he lifted her from the bed and carried her to the bathing pool to bathe with him. Then he dressed in his royal attire, the patterned layers transforming him from raw, rugged Alpha to statuesque king before her eyes. Damn, he was a very handsome man.

As he secured his hair back into its binding, his gaze met hers. A moment passed. Then, without warning, he seized her by the throat, pulling her into him. Pressing his nose to the gland at her neck, he inhaled long and deep before pulling back to meet her gaze. Without a word he turned and left the room.

The door clicked shut, and unease curled in Naya’s stomach. This was the first time he’d left her alone since she’d surrendered herself to him. She climbed back to bed and, surrounding herself with his scent, fell back into restless sleep.

He returned hours later, his mood somber, his silence thunderous. He tore his clothes off and dragged her down to the middle of the bed, knocking her legs apart and entering her with the intensity she loved.

It became a pattern.

Each day, he was gone longer, and each night, he took her with the same ruthless hunger.

On the fifth morning, Naya woke alone. Sunlight streamed through the high, arched windows, illuminating the room’s grandeur—the ornate pillars, the latticed shadows cast over the shimmering bathing pool, the pale gold and deep blues of a space that felt more like a throne room than a bedroom.

She rose, wrapping herself in the bedsheets. Her fingers trailed along the richly decorated walls, following the dips and grooves of their intricate patterns as she traced the room’s perimeter. She stopped by the pool. A magical structure hummed somewhere underneath the water.

She hadn’t noticed it much before, but it made sense. Sometimes the water churned and flowed on its own, old water replaced by new, without anyone draining it. She continued walking unhurriedly, examining everything she could find. The chamber was luxurious by any standard, but with the pillars and high vaulted ceiling, it felt incredibly special.

She halted at the sight of the weapons stand along the back wall. She’d forgotten he had one in here. It was like the ones on the rooftop where she and Akoro had sparred. But this one held an array of royal armaments—swords with glittering blades, curved daggers with jewel-encrusted hilts, staffs inlaid with silver. Weapons meant for a king.

Naya approached them slowly. They certainly were beautiful. Her hand hovered over a slim dagger before grasping its hilt.

Lifting it, she tested its balance, the weight perfect in her palm. Slowly, and still clutching the bedsheet around her, she moved through one of her favorite sequences, muscles protesting after days of nothing but Akoro’s attention.

Placing the dagger back, she searched for clothes but found none in her size. So she tied the sheet into a makeshift tunic and returned to the stand. This time she lifted a sword and began training, just like she did when she was captured last time, but now it was just for fun, for something to do. It felt good to move through those motions again and use her body for something other than submission. She moved through the drills, the blade an extension of her body, each movement smooth, familiar, freeing. For the first time in days, she felt like herself, before her inner Omega took over.

She had no idea how long she trained before exhaustion took her, but by the time Akoro returned and moved between her legs, she was already asleep.

Each day, Naya would wake alone, spend hours honing her skills with the weapons on Akoro's wall, and return them carefully before his return. He never spoke of what kept him away, and she did not ask.

On the eighth day, she got careless. She had progressed to more complex patterns with a short sword, pushing herself harder, faster. The weapon was beautiful—curved and deadly, its dark steel etched with intricate symbols, the gilded hilt wrapped in strips of leather, and a single obsidian gem gleaming in its center. But she slipped, and the edge caught her forearm, opening a clean slash that immediately welled with blood.

Hissing, Naya dropping the weapon with a clatter. Blood dripped onto the intricate rug. She pressed her hand against the wound, but the cut was deeper than she had first thought and blood seeped between her fingers.

Cursing inwardly with annoyance, she headed to the door. She hadn’t touched it since she arrived, not wanting to give Akoro any reason to accuse her of trying to escape or not sticking to his terms.

At least four guards stood outside. "I need a healer," she said to the nearest one.

He glanced at her arm and then nodded, disappearing down the corridor.

Akoro arrived moments later, bursting through the door with such force that it slammed against the wall. His eyes narrowed on the makeshift bandage she’d made from a torn strip of bedding, now soaked through with red.

"What the fuck happened?" he bellowed.

A healer scurried in behind him, an older woman who approached Naya with caution. As she unwrapped the crude bandage, Akoro's gaze fell to the blood-stained rug and then darted to the weapon’s stand. His entire body tensed.

He said nothing as the healer treated her wound, but as soon as she finished, he ordered her out.

“Why are you touching those weapons?”

Naya pressed the secure bandage around her arm and met his gaze. “Why not?”

He stepped forward. “If you’re trying to hurt yourself, I will?—”

---